


My Boy

by orphan_account



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Mommy Kink, Mummy kink, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Set during C2E16.After Caleb hears Jester refer to him as Nott's son, he confronts Nott about what exactly she's said.





	My Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to this prompt: https://criticalkink.dreamwidth.org/3194.html?thread=561018#cmt561018
> 
> Look, if I've already crossed the line of writing human/goblin fucking, I might as well go all out human/goblin fucking with kinky shit.
> 
> This is straight up mummy kink for Nott and Caleb, so if that's not your jam, you have been fully warned.
> 
>  
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer: Nott is an adult.

“ _Your son_?” Caleb accuses immediately when Jester leaves their room.

Nott fiddles with some of the buttons in her pockets and refuses to meet Caleb’s gaze. “Yes, odd that.” Nott The Brave is brilliant at a great many things. She can pickpocket like no one else Caleb has met; she’s clever in ways that always surprise him; she can pull off impossibly scary tasks with little more than a few gulps of spirits. But Nott is an abysmal liar, especially to Caleb.

“Please don’t play dumb—we both know you’re too smart for that. What have you told her?”

She looks up and smiles sheepishly, her sharp goblin teeth showing through. “When they confronted me about the scroll case, I may have told them a few things to get them off your back?”

Caleb’s brow furrows. “You told them _that_?” The flush starts at his neck, and its crimson works his ways up his cheeks and to the tops of his ears in no time. “I don’t understand how that even vaguely— How was that relevant?”

“Well, you don’t have all the context. It wasn’t that exactly. It made sense at the time.”

"Nein, nein,” Caleb chants under his breath as his shame sinks lower and he can feel a horrible panic set in.

“Caleb, no,” Nott says as her voice slips into that matriarchal voice that hits Caleb in the gut in an instant—an attempt to comfort and take control of the situation. He tries to dismiss it initially; they were having a conversation and he’s supposed to be mad. It’s hardly the right time. But they haven’t done this in a little while, not since before the Nein, and he misses it. He misses her. 

After a moment of conflict, he bows his head and pushes his knees together as he sits on their small bed, shrinking his posture in the unspoken command—but there’s still a slight defiance in the tension of his shoulders. Nott walks over and grasps his fingers in hers. It should be ridiculous doing it this way around—his hands are so much bigger than hers; all of him is so much bigger than her. But the physicality doesn’t matter, really. It’s her command and her presence—that’s what makes Caleb feel like the small boy waiting for instruction.

“‘M sorry, mummy.” He can tell the flush is settling in, but there’s an edge to his voice that he doesn’t have when they do this most of the time. Caleb is still confused and more than a little bit pissed off that Nott might have said something, but the greater part of him is urging him to go with this. “Want to know why you said anything.”

Nott moves in closer so that his head can rest on her shoulder. Despite himself, he snuggles in, forehead grazing her neck, and inhaling the scent of her hair. “That’s okay, Caleb.” He lets himself rest there for a moment, using her to centre him and calm down the tension between them. Nott knows that he’s not angry, exactly, but she ought to explain a little more. “Like I said, there was context. Your mummy didn’t talk about this stuff, okay?” She raises her left hand to the back of his neck, massaging the soft skin there and playing with the tangles in his hair. “We don’t need anyone to know about what we do in private. That’s between us two.”

“Yes, Mummy.” He’s smiling as he allows himself to slip more into this mind frame; the relief that whatever happened wasn’t quite as bad as he’d feared comes in. It’s been a trying couple of days and he's too on edge. This break is welcome; it’s necessary, at this point. Though he is curious about what made her say anything along those lines in the first place, the ability to throw away the stupid adult responsibilities is something Caleb has been missing.

With a soft voice, Nott continues and answers that curiosity, “They were being condescending. The boys especially—they’re kids, they’ll learn, but they didn’t understand who was in charge here. They need to learn some manners. I told them I was the parent here. They got it better after that.”

Caleb’s brain is working slower in this role, so it takes him a second to grasp what she’s saying. He’s not entirely thrilled with her decision, in truth. Whilst it’s correct, in some ways at least, it throws away the possibility of being able to tell the Mighty Nein that they’re...whatever they are out the window for now. But he trusts her—he wasn’t there, he can only trust her. “They got it now?”

Nott smiles at the slight childish intonation to Caleb’s tone. “Yes, sweetheart. Told them that you’re my boy. You’re my good boy, aren’t you, Caleb?”

He nods into her shoulder. He can be a good boy for her. He can make her happy. He’ll do what she says, and he’ll make her proud. She presses her hips against his crotch as an immediate reminder that although this works as a comfort for both of them, there’s something that’s very carnal about this for the two of them. Keeping it sexual stops Caleb’s head ruminating on what must be occurring within his psyche that lets him enjoy this; his past and those circumstances Nott doesn’t even know yet. But it’s all fine—it’s private, and it’s not real, and whatever gets them off is nobody else’s business.

Hissing out a breath, Caleb leans against her. “Do you want me to touch?” Her small hands slide down his back and brush along his spine.

“Mmhmm,” Caleb mumbles, his voice small and contented. “Getting hard.”

Nott grins as she moves closer, lifting Caleb’s head so they’re eye-to-eye. As a rule, he doesn’t like eye contact. But there are some exceptions—and Nott is, without question, a definite exception. “You haven’t been touching yourself again without me, have you? You’re not old enough for that yet; got to have mummy take care of you.”

“Didn’t touch.”

She smiles, “I believe you. I’m going to show you how happy I am that you’ve been a good boy.”

When they do this, Nott is methodical. She slowly removes Caleb’s threadbare scarf and folds it, before putting it in a pile on the chair next to them. Next is the worn brown shirt—no coat this time as they’ve been inside a while—its removal exposing Caleb’s freckled chest. The red hair there should be another sign that this is ridiculous and that he’s a grown man. Though somehow it's the obvious contradictions that makes this perfect.

Once she’s got him stripped off, Caleb lifting his hips off the bed to let her remove his trousers and underwear, she kisses him. It’s unhurried and soothing. Leaning into his role, he lets Nott take the lead. She starts with her hands at his sides, tracing patterns and kisses across his skin before reaching his aching cock, which lies leaking against his stomach.

When she takes him in hand, Caleb gets shy, throwing his arm over his face to hide his blushes.

“Since you’ve been so good, we’re going to do something special. I promise it’s okay, you’re going to like it. You can’t tell anyone, though, okay? Just between you and mummy since you’ve been a good boy.”

The thing is, in this scenario, Caleb is never anything other than Nott’s good boy. Early in exploring this, Nott tried the alternative and to punish him, chastising him for being bad. But the reaction was unsettling, to say the least. Caleb’s eyes stung with real tears, as sincere apologies came flooding out; trauma that he tried to swallow somehow found its way to the surface in their little game. He knew that she was roleplaying—he understood the purpose of her words were to titillate rather than to admonish—but Caleb’s reaction was uncontrolled and painful.

She withdrew immediately. She cooed in his ear and stroked his hair, and she told him to worry. That she was proud. She rocked him till the sun came up, and she let him cry it out without prying.

It’s part of the reason why Caleb trusts her implicitly with this now.

So Caleb is always painfully, heartbreakingly obedient. It works better for Nott too that way. The reverence that he holds for her every instruction makes her feel acknowledged in a way that she hasn’t had with many others. Her clan talked over her, belittling her for how scared she was. Other people see her goblin face and do nothing but scream and run for weapons. Whilst the Mighty Nein, for all the tolerance and kindness they’ve shown so far, can talk down to her like she’s a child or stupid. But Caleb listens, and he hears her. He’s only the second friend who’s ever done that.

“What are we going to do?” Caleb asks as Nott strips off the bottom half of her clothing quickly, with much less care than she showed him. She keeps her top on, tugging it gently lower to cover more of herself for a moment in an unconscious movement.

Nott pushes Caleb back on the bed, and he manoeuvres himself so that he’s lying with the pillow below his head. With a swift movement, she’s on the bed and straddling him. Caleb grins widely at this angle. Nott very rarely removes this amount of her clothing; if she does, there are only two options of what’s going to happen here. Either way, he’s delighted at the prospect, as any amount of Nott stripping off happens so rarely.

“You’re gonna get mummy off how she likes first? Wanna watch me do it a little first and then copy?”

He nods.

Whilst they haven’t done this often, there’s a bit of strategy and routine they’ve had to get used to to account for the size difference. Nott stretching herself out first, her deft fingers practised in touching herself. When her fingers slide into her cunt, she’s almost always silent, biting her lip and breath catching.

Though when Caleb slides his fingers into her, mimicking her movements, it goes so much deeper. She squeaks this time, the feeling so much more intense to have another person touching her and so much further into her. She mumbles out tender encouragements and adorations to Caleb, and he can feel it resonate in his bones, in his every cell. He can make her happy. All he needs to do is make her happy. Despite his impressive mind, right now Caleb couldn’t tell you a thing about where they are, what time of day it is, or what their purpose is outside this bedroom. All he knows is that he makes Nott happy—his mummy happy—and that’s enough.

When it reaches the time for Nott to slide his cock inside her, there’s a moment of time where they’re both waiting to see what happens. The first few times they tried this, Nott couldn’t get halfway before she had to stop—it was too much stretch, too much length, too much feeling. This time she stops part way, legs quaking and hands reaching out to Caleb. He wraps his arms around her and just supports her weight; he’s not urging her down or pulling her off but letting her hold. She takes several deep breaths and calms her trembling limbs as she focuses. Looking up at Caleb with a self-assured expression, she sinks the rest of the way down onto him and he makes an undignified noise of pleasure.

She rides him slowly, as he watches the barest hint of surprise in her expression that she’s managed again this time. Though mostly what radiates off her is loving matriarchal care, whilst her cunt holds him tight and slick, caressing him.

It feels wonderfully filthy and wrong, in all the best ways.

“Mummy, not going to be long,” Caleb admits in an embarrassed voice as he leans his head back.

“That’s okay, Caleb. Use your hand to help mummy come.”

Obliging, Caleb reaches his right hand to her clit and strokes rapidly back and forth, then circles of firm pressure as she cries out.

There’s a breathlessness to her voice as she whispers in his ear, “So good, aren’t you, Caleb? Make me feel so good. Such a good boy.”

“Yes,” escapes him as a stressed whisper. “Ja, Mummy.”

Nott’s arms grip onto his shoulders to steady herself more. “I’ve got you, Caleb. Got you safe. Always got you safe, my boy—”

“Gonna come,” he says as warning, biting his lip. The praise, her protectiveness—it’s too much.

“No.” Her voice is firm in response. “You’re staying in mummy. Keep fucking mummy.”

His eyes grow wider at her tone. There’s no sharpness there, only insistence. “Please, Mummy. Can’t help it.”

“No.”

“I can’t come in you, Mummy,” Caleb clarifies honestly, sliding out of his role in his tone of voice to make it clear. He could lift her off him to pull out, but she’s in charge here.

But there’s a knowing look in Nott’s eye of something else there. She won’t say it because of the character or whatever the fuck it is that they’re doing with this, but she’s letting him figure out.

“Bitte, please,” Caleb pleads. If the shame of liking this in the first place didn’t already do terrific things to the pit of his stomach, the idea of _coming inside his mummy_ does even greater. He moves the hand stroking Nott’s clit even faster as his all of the muscles in his arm strain with the tension of it. “Nott, Mummy, _bitte—_ ”

“Stay with mummy. Stay in mummy. All mine, my boy. ”

Her hips meet his one more time before Caleb’s coming, toes curling against the mattress and hips stuttering. The foreign sensation of being inside Nott whilst doing this darkens the flush across his face and chest; his whole body is hot with shame and embarrassment that he couldn't stop himself coming inside her.

When he’s spent, Caleb pulls out slowly, keeping his fingers pressing tight circles against Nott’s clit. As he withdraws, there’s a sticky dampness that escapes—the evidence of Caleb’s enjoyment—leaking out of her. And with that, it tips Nott over the edge. She’s coming, gripping Caleb tighter; there’s the tiniest hint of her claws pinching at his skin. It’s not too sharp or painful, and he can tell it’s completely unintentional, but there’ll be tiny marks there in the morning.

As they come down, there’s the familiar weakness to their limbs. Nott lies next to him whilst they catch their breath, stroking Caleb’s hair and whispering praise into his ear. He feels warm and floaty and _safe_. Absently, Caleb wonders how Nott feels after they do this. How protective she must feel whilst she still frets over him, and how powerful she is. He likes the idea of that. Caleb wants Nott to feel good.

When they’re calmer, sweat cooling, breathing returning to normal, and their minds slipping out of this space and back to Caleb and Nott’s normal dynamic, Caleb can't help himself but to ask, “I assume there was a plan about the— You know…” He feels weirdly sheepish talking about it.

Nott looks over to Caleb and moves a messy lock that had fallen across his face. “Yes, Jester and I had a very _theoretical_ conversation about natural remedies people take for that. She knows a lot about this stuff.” Which made sense to Caleb, as both a healer and where she grew up. “Ingredients were easy enough to get. Alchemy, medicine—it’s all chemistry in the end. Wasn’t difficult when I knew what I was making. So, er, we can do it like that for a while now.”

Caleb chuckles trying to picture the conversation between the pair. He has every faith Nott managed to ask without divulging too much, but he can imagine how much Jester enjoyed that discussion.

“Thank you for all this, Nott.” It’s not only tonight. It’s not just more generally the looking after him in the sense she does in the bedroom—it’s everything else too. It’s strange, after so long, to have someone in his corner. She’s so certain of his worthiness of it all that under enough of her attention, only for a second, she can make him believe it.

“You’re quite welcome.” He can hear exhaustion in her voice, and she leans in closer. “Anything for my boy.” There’s a tender joke there, but the sentiment rings true.

He reaches his hand over and threads his fingers through hers, letting his content and dreamless sleep take him.


End file.
